


A Wall of Silence

by Greengargouille



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 21:54:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8118907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greengargouille/pseuds/Greengargouille
Summary: A recollection of Mimura's memories before 3-E.(Made for the Ansatsu Kyoushitsu week 2016)





	

**Author's Note:**

> According to the Illustration Book, Mimura's father is a former tarento, a 'celebrity who regularly appear in mass media, especially television'.

There’s a clear memory in Mimura’s mind, a moment from a long time ago, when he must have been no more than 5 or 6 years old.

It was pretty late in the evening, and all the lights in the living room have been switched off, only illuminated by the pale radiance of the TV. He should already have been to bed, but his father appeared in a semi-popular show, a rare occurence, so his mom let him stay a bit longer.

(That’s how Mimura could be so sure he was so young at that moment ; it’s been years since his father stopped being a _tarento_ ).

But the show had already ended in his memory ; with his mom asleep on the sofa, there was nobody to put him to bed. Instead he was watching the after-show drama, the characters speaking in a weird, incomprehensible tone -or was it his memory failing him ?-. It shouldn’t have been anything worth remembering.

And yet, there was _that_ scene.

Even years later, he could play it back perfectly within his mind. A background pillar separating the scene in two. The lighting behind one character, shadowing his face. The way the scene cut between the couple shown, sitting closely yet separated by editing. The absence of music was jarring, too.

A loneliness he was unfamiliar with at that age, but that was shown so clearly, even without understanding the story. A sentiment so powerful he could only stare at the screen and think words that would influence him for life.

_I want to do something like this._

* * *

Shame. It’s something that keep following Kouki. It was an invisible membrane sticking to his skin, uncomfortable and itchy.

Shame during that New Year with the whole family reunited, and that video of him happily mimicking guitar moves in the air. How could he not understand before that moment that the laughters were directed at him.

Shame when his comrades mentioned their mother waiting at home, or those who boasted that they had the house for themselves because both of their parents worked. How is it that he was the only one with his father being a house-husband.

Shame that time he brought friends at his home, and his father bragged about his former profession. _“I might not look like it, but years ago I was a celebrity !”_. He even had the old tapes and newspaper articles to prove it. How did he not notice the look the children gave him, the _“what a weirdo”._

Shame. It’s always there, worming itself though the pore of his skin. Waiting for the next mistake.

He doesn’t play air guitar anymore where he could be seen.

He lies about his family.

And he never, ever bring friends home.

* * *

Soon they will all graduate primary school. In Mimura’s class, everyone keeps talking about where they will go and which club they will choose. Some boys says they will miss the prettiest girls. It turns into a conversation on crushes.

Kouki innocently admit his crush on Myuu. He’s not the only one, after all she’s a very cute girl, with her ponytail and her warm smile.

What Kouki forgets is that he’s far from being the bulkiest child of his class, and so, so very easy to tease.

Inevitably, he found himself pushed in front of the girl, everyone watching them.

He can see discomfort in her eyes. Pity, too. She probably guessed his intention -or rather, the intention of his classmates. She doesn’t want his confession.

_“...Hiroki said he likes you.”_

It’s a treacherous move, but at least her face soften, reassured. 

Kouki is so, so glad nobody else will go to Kunigigaoka.

* * *

 The atmosphere was heavy in the Mimura household’s kitchen. Kouki couldn’t bring himself to look at his parents.

_“Please. We’re only trying to understand why you did that.”_

He knew very well he shouldn’t have joined a club without talking about it with his parents. Depending on the club, additional expenses might be necessary, like the uniform of the sport clubs or the instruments of the light music club. So for their family, whose main source of income was his mom’s salary, a TV company employee’s wage, they had to be careful.

(He thought bitterly that it wouldn’t happen if his father was still working. There’s quite a difference between a man’s and a woman’s wage, so it was ridiculous that it was his mom that had to work.)

But the main point wasn’t, in fact, the money.

It was trust. His parents trusted him to come at them to discuss instead of doing things on his own. And he broke that trust.

“It not like we would have refused it, you know ? I’m... not sure why you would be interested in Film Research, but that could be worse.  
-A sport club would have been nice though, you spend so much time indoors...”

Ah, he knew that would happen. His mother may work at a TV company and his father might be a former regular at TV shows, but it doesn’t mean they particularly care about drama or movies. No, even liking them, it’s different from being interested in the more technical aspects, right ? Music and lighting and editing. It’s secondary to the actors’ performance and the story. It would be pretty long to explain his interest in it, so he have been reluctant in doing it. Now if he did it, it would only sound like excuses.

“Look, you might think we’re painful and you may hate us, but we do this because we care about you. If we die, I don’t want anyone to say we neglected you.”

The words were surprisingly harsh. Kouki wondered if they used them for making him feel guilty, consciously or not.

It worked.

“Kouki, _are you even listening to what we’re saying_?”

He wanted to respond.

_I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you._   
_I’m sorry, I don’t think you’re painful at all._   
_I’m sorry, I don’t hate you._   
_I’m sorry, I really wanted to get into this club but I was scared of your reactions._   
_I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry-_

The words were jammed in his throat, the bitter taste of shame on his tongue. Ah, why was it... His parents were in front of him, yet... he felt so alone...

* * *

The Film Research club isn’t among the most popular clubs, but there’s still enough people for it to function without problem. The hardest part is having to stick to a role, but editing is fine enough for Mimura, and when they need a second or third cameraman, he’s more than up to the task.  Because he’s one of the first years, he’s sometimes given the menial chores, but it’s never a big deal.

The worse chores are given to that guy in 2-E, after all.

There’s something unjust about all of this. He have an hard time getting used to it, but what use would there be at protesting ? It won’t help the boy, and worse, it will attract problems on him.

So he tries to ignore it. Turn his eyes on the other side. It’s hard, because there’s a duo of second-year -class A, class B ? He isn’t sure- who loves nothing more than to tease the poor guy. Nothing physical. Just humiliation. Having to clean up the club room alone. Making him run to the drama club for another actor. Forcing him to remove his clothes in front of the camera when most of the members are away, making him imitate a pig or a cow while in underwear. 

...Mimura pay no mind to those things. His upperclassmen are annoying with him -with all first-year, really-, messing up his hair or talking to him as if he was stupid, but as long as he say nothing they’re alright. They even give him tips on editing, or good music to use, or even advice on how to get closer to the vice-president, a very gracious girl with beautiful long hair. 

So, really, he must be imagining things with that 2-E guy. Certainly he can turn his head the other way.

* * *

Mimura is a picky child when it comes to food. He always have been.

Unfortunately for him his parents doesn't let him eat at the school canteen. It's cheap and tasty, but they knows better than let him choose his own meals. So, like a surprisingly small part of the students, he comes to school with homemade bentos.

(When people assume they're made by his mother, he doesn't correct them. He wonders if it counts as a lie.)

That's how he began to talk with Isogai and Maehara. Neither of them eat at the canteen. In Maehara's case, he suspects he wants to hide from his exes. But the two of them are good company. They’re charming, good both at studies and sport and everyone loves them. Such ikemen.

Mimura feel like he shouldn't speak to them sometimes. He’s way below them.

Maehara once ask, after boasting on his girlfriends, if he got a crush on someone. He thinks about the club vice-president and how cute she looks when she talk about filmmaking.

He doesn't speak about her.

He doesn't even mention how his heart once skipped a beat and how he blushed when a girl gave him a love letter. That would be humiliating, given that letter was, in fact, for Maehara. (Of course it was. For who else could it have been, him ?). He never gave him that confession.

Instead he just tell him that they don’t have time for this, and he might fall into class E if he spends his free days on dates. Isogai approves.

He only say that as a friend. He isn't jealous at all.

...What do girls find in him anyway. If he had to choose, Isogai is much more charming than his best friend.

...Not that he already thought about that.

* * *

Fifteen minutes. It’s his longest video ever. And it’s not just something he worked on -it’s his own story, something he made with some third years who needed an excuse not to participate in a bigger project at the club due to the exams. It’s very personal, inspired by his own experiences at school, so he’s a bit anxious at the idea it will be shown at their teachers, let alone during the school festival next year.

For now, he’s even more anxious at showing it at his parents.

He never got the chance to explain to them what he did at the club. A worry to seem ridiculous stick to his throat when he try to put that into words ; he figured a short film would be his best way to communicate with them.

...No way he’s staying while they watch, though. He just put the disk where they will notice it, on the table of the living room, and mention it during dinner. Surely they will get interested enough to try by themselves. 

During the next days, Kouki is sweating each time he speak to his mother or father. Waiting for their critics.

They never talk about it.

* * *

If the first year of Junior High was tough, then second year was nasty. Mimura is a good student, but if it weren’t for hard work at home his grades would drop in an instant.

The worse is science. Not because he needs to read the explanation three times for it to make sense. But dammit, _why is real life so different from movies ?_ How many of his favorite dramas got ruined by an off-hand comment on human anatomy or physics ?

* * *

“I can’t believe a good student like you thought it was a good idea to make a movie insulting your comrades.”

That wasn’t it. He merely got inspired. But he can’t explain that convincingly. Everyone in the room knows. The bullies in his video were clearly a reference to the comportement of two certain upperclassmen of his. Two very angry upperclassmen that complained to the teacher supervising the club. How could this boy to whom they only showed kindness dared to ruin their social image like that ?

“And let’s not talk about the morale. Encouraging students to rebel or run away, really ? Is this what you want this school to be known for ?”

That wasn’t that, that wasn’t that at all. It was supposed to be an hopeful message. It was a stupid wish-fulfilment story. Even the students who helped him understood this. Students who were now in high school.

Most of the other club member knew it wasn’t in his personality to do this. They knew the two complainers were much worse than the sweet attitude they showed in front of adults.

Even so, in this club room, nobody came to Mimura’s help.

It was understandable. They had nothing to win to helping him, and it’s not like they could be of much help in the first place. Even if they were friendly, it wasn’t worth the risk to be labelled a rebellious student, right ? Some of them were already in tight situation with the school. They didn’t need more attention than that. Even the vice-president -no, this year she was president now- could only show him a silent, sad smile. Mimura understood. He would do the same in their place.

...No, even saying that... He was angry at them. He was bitter to be scolded this harshly when he was in the right. So... Even if it was stupid... even if that were of no help... He wished for someone to be by his side, telling him everything would be okay.

But nobody said a word. Mimura stayed alone. 

* * *

He was a good student. The case was not worth reuniting more teachers or paying more attention than a semi-public scolding for making sure nobody else would do the same thing.

It was, however, big enough for his parents to be alerted of his attitude. His father was already waiting for him at home, his eyes as sharp as his face.

>

_“How could you”. “Such attitude from your part.” “We didn’t educate you like that.”_

Everything was kinda blurry. The same complaints. 

“It’s a chance your grades are high enough for them to let you go ! To think you waste your time on those videos instead of studying...”

_To think you waste your time._   
_Waste of time. Your videos are a waste of time._   
_It wasn’t even worth talking about them, right ?_

“Maybe they’re a waste of time, but at least I’m doing something instead of staying at home jobless !”

He didn’t mean to say this. The words came out of his mouth without thinking.

He didn’t want to see the hurtful face of his dad like that.

“I...I’m not...”

Kouki ran away to his room. Which was stupid, he thought after that. He should have stayed and excused himself. He knew he was in the wrong.

He could hear his father walking, the steps stopping in front of the locked door.

_Say something._   
_Be angry at me._   
_Don’t be angry. Please excuse me. I’m sorry._   
_Make me say ‘sorry’._   
_Don’t. I don’t deserve this. Punish me._   
_Say something. You know I know you’re there._   
_I only need a few words. Anything. Please._

The only thing that broke the silence was his father’s footstep, gently getting away from his bedroom.

Mimura felt like he was being locked up in a cage of thick, invisible wall. Lonely.

* * *

The bento from the next day was full of things he liked. Mimura couldn’t eat even a bit of it.

* * *

It was easy to lie about his grades at first. He barely spoke to his parents anymore. 

It should have been easy to catch up with the classes he had fallen behind. He barely spent time to the club now. The look from his comrades were as uncomfortable as the blank sheet of biology exercices.

It could be easy to accuse everyone else for falling into class E. His parents and his teachers and his classmates. The school had already made Isogai and Maehara fall, when they were so much better than him.

But he knew. It was his fault. He could feel the shame sticking to his skin.

There was no other place for him than that class upon the hill.


End file.
